


Space

by MQAnon



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: ACTUAL poetry, M/M, Really there's actually very little to tag for this, mentions of poetry, or at least one line of it, walks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-14 00:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2171592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MQAnon/pseuds/MQAnon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They like to walk with a small distance between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Space

They like to walk with a small distance between them.

It’s never large, no more than a foot or so; enough that their hands won’t brush when they take them out of pockets but small enough that they can feel the distant, shrouded weight of the other against their shoulder on every other step, the faintest reminder sent through dimmed nerves that the other is there, close by. Simon loves it. The space means he can do something with his hands when his fingers start getting restless – he can unravel threads from his jumper or toy with a coin in his pocket or just try and remember what different fabrics feel against the ball of his thumb. He can’t, not always, but it’s a fun little thing for him to do in those silver silences that envelop him and Kieren as they walk, because the quiet is peaceful and _theirs_ and he knows Kieren doesn’t mind (and God, doesn’t he love the boy for accepting his times of silence without a word).

But more than anything, Simon loves how the space reflects them – they are not glued to each other’s side 24/7 (though Lord knows they spend enough time curled up together on the sofa in the bungalow) but they’re never really apart either. It’s just space, turning them from one conjoined unit into two separate entities who _choose_ to be together, who choose it every day because it’s what they want and not because they have some obligation to do so.

The space makes their walks easy, too, wherever they are. Simon’s favourites generally end up being the forest or the graveyard or just somewhere away from people, where the air feels like pages around poetry because he’s never met anyone who can be poetry better than Kieren can, because Kieren _is_ poetry now, at least to him. Simon doesn’t mean that in that he can describe Kieren using poetry – he means it in that Kieren’s actions and the way he moves taste like flawless phrases across his mind, like lines of Yeats made real, made tangible by this brilliant boy ( _I’ll say and maybe dream I have drawn content_ ).

The space forms naturally between them, and Simon never minds.

Because whenever he wants, he can reach out and take Kieren’s hand.


End file.
